Why am I so nasty sometimes?

I have had an officially bad day in the parenting stakes. This seems to be happening to me rather a lot at the moment, and I am not at all proud of what is coming out of my mouth. I sound like a candidate for Tiny Tearaways where they video you and then say 'Is it any wonder your child had a hissy fit today?'

I exaggerate of course. As my wonderful husband often points out, there were lots of good points during the day where I wasn't a bitch to my children. I just wish I could rein in the anger that sometimes whooshes up from somewhere when I'm trying to get Oliver to sit in his car seat so I can strap him in; when Faye is virtually pulling down my trousers or pinching O's bum when I'm trying to change him (that one was quite funny actually!); when Oliver has a meltdown because we have to leave Emily behind at a playgroup (she's a green train, not a person...). We kissed and made up today but I hate that residual feeling of guilt mixed with exhaustion.

Ah, exhaustion. I suspect that's a large part of the problem. Plus trying to flog a flat that might have subsidence (or might not, don't ask) and putting in an offer on a place which is gorgeous but bound to cost us a fortune over the years if we get it!! As they say, it's all happening here in sunny (I wish) Bristol. I suppose that could be another factor for my malaise - the bloody weather.

Anyway, enough for now. Whinge, whinge, whinge. Self-pity is a loathesome thing...